The Games We Play
by Ryah Ignis
Summary: Where wrong is right in the eyes of the law. Where life is determined by the purity of your blood. Where Harry Potter is dead. This is the world in which Astoria Greengrass finds herself. The only person she can trust is Draco Malfoy-the one person she'd prefer never to trust again.
1. Preface

**The Games We Play  
Preface**

_Daily Prophet_

_May 3__rd__, 1998_

_Yesterday, battle commenced at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Fifty students, teachers and members of the secret Order of the Pheonix (see page 6) faced off against Death Eaters. Led by Harry Potter (see page 7) they fought a futile battle. Outnumbered, with more casualties than fighters, they were forced to stand down at 5:08 AM. Harry Potter fled into the forest, where he appeared to be killed by the Dark Lord. However, the self-proclaimed Chosen One lifted the ruse in order to fight against the Dark Lord. The battle lasted long into the day, but Harry Potter was grievously outclassed. At 9:38 AM, the Boy-Who-Lived died. See page 8 for a full synopsis of the heart-wrenching battle. The Daily Prophet encourages citizens to flee as soon as possible.****Rita Skeeter_

Draco still had the paper, buried deep in one of the many hiding places in his wing of the manor. It had been three years, four months and twenty days. He would never forget. That was the last article the Daily Prophet had printed without inspection by one of the Dark Lord's lackeys. Rita Skeeter had been murdered two days after it was published because of her warning. Many witches and wizards, particularly Muggleborns on the run had escaped because of it.

His fist clenched on the tip of the newspaper. Somehow, Harry Potter had lost. Somehow, the Dark Lord had won. Somehow, it had all fallen apart.

**Author's Note: In this story, when Harry attempted to wrestle the wands out of Draco's hand, he managed to steal Bellatrix's and Ron's wands, along with the blackthorn wand. Unfortunately for him, Draco hung on a little tighter to his own wand, and Harry didn't manage to steal it. When he faced off against Voldemort, he was not the master of the Elder Wand, and faced off alone. As you can see from the article, he lasted approximately three hours, but he just wasn't capable of beating Voldemort. No one stepped in because, like in the book, he told them not to and they assumed he had a plan.**

**Harry never told Voldemort who was the master of the Elder Wand. It wasn't relevant, and it would only get Draco killed, and Harry (while thinking he was a slimy coward) obviously didn't want him to die. Because of this, Voldemort thinks he is the master of the Elder Wand because he killed Snape. He's right, in a way, because the Wand does listen to him, if only because Draco does.**

**Aaaand, there's the beginning to the AU sequel to Many Things. You did not have to read Many Things to understand this, but a lot about the relationships between the characters is important.**

**This is only the preface: chapters will be longer than this.**


	2. A Chance Meeting

**The Games We Play**

**A Chance Meeting**

The street was dark, desolate. If despair had a smell, the place would have reeked of it. No one would have ever guessed that it had once been a bustling hub, always teeming with life and bright colors. Four years Diagon Alley had been in this state. One before the war, and three after. Of course, if one asked one of the many families that still spoke in whispers of rebellion, they would say that Diagon Alley would live again. If one asked Draco Malfoy, he'd say there was no chance.

He hoped he was wrong.

It was a mystery to everyone why he was slowly walking down the street. His eyes were not on the ground like the others he passed. They were on the young brunette witch hustling along with the rest.

"Astoria? Astoria Greengrass?"

She looked up, shock crossing her face at the use of her first name. Draco supposed she hadn't heard it in a while. After all, it wasn't as if she had anyone to call her that.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said curtly, dropping her gaze.

"You've changed. No sarcastic points to make?"

"None that I can see."

She tried to brush past him, but he stopped her.

"Would you like to get a drink?"

"A—a drink?"

"Yes," he said, a smirk crossing his face. "A drink. I believe you know what that is?"

She pursed her lips, but she relaxed her expression in a moment, almost before he had time to register it.

"Between old school friends, of course, Miss Greengrass."

Her eyebrows shot up. So she hadn't missed the use of her last name in retaliation for the use of his. Little games were all he had left now, and Astoria was one of the best opponents.

"Oh, well, I really have to go, I have a case in an hour…"

"Nonsense. You can Apperate there, can't you?"

Astoria shrugged, and meekly allowed him to lead her into the Leaky Cauldron. Old Tom stared sourly up from his bar, where he wiped a class already shined to perfection. A crowd of Death Eaters sat in the corner, laughing boisterously and drinking from a large bottle of firewhiskey. Draco surveyed them with distaste. One would think they could be more tactful.

"Could we have a more private room, Tom?"

The barkeeper jumped to attention and led them towards a room in the back that Draco vaguely remembered from childhood parties. Tom ushered them in and shut the door behind him. As soon as it closed, Astoria whipped out her wand and pinned him firmly against the wall, the wood digging into his throat.

"What do you want?" she snarled.

"Just to talk," he said, easing her off of him.

It wasn't particularly difficult. Astoria may have grown up mentally over the past three years, but she had not grown up physically. Despite not being a very tall person, he almost towered over her. She deflated, letting her wand drop to her side.

"Where have you been, Draco?"

"Here and there. My job has taken me everywhere, it seems sometimes. Liaison, you know, between the countries of the alliance?"

"You mean the countries he's bullied into submission? I may have spent the past few years in the vacuum of the Ministry, but I'm not stupid. I can see what he's done. His influence's spread all over the place, now. France, Germany…"

Her voice trailed away into nothing. He walked over to the table and they faced each other over the polished surface. Draco half expected her to deal cards on to the table and tell him to play.

"They're not taking it very well, no. The French Minister threw a teapot at my head the last time I went there to negotiate."

She cracked a smile at the mental image of him dodging a teapot.

"Nearly hit me, but I've avoided enough Bludgers in my time."

"You're lucky it wasn't an Avada Kedavra," Astoria joked. "I've heard she has some quick spellwork."

"But beyond that, what have you been up to?"

"I transcribe the trials. They're still running, you know. Since they're so horridly unfair, it takes a while to even call one. They have to find a reason to arrest them other than the crime of being Muggleborn since Penelope Clearwater proved that it's impossible to steal magic. For instance, they arrested and killed Hermione Granger for aiding Undesirable Number One. Dean Thomas was imprisoned in one of the Muggleborn camps for spreading false propaganda."

"Were you there for Granger's trial?" he asked quietly, trying to imagine the bushy-haired, buck-toothed Muggleborn chained to the throne-like chair.

He couldn't.

She shook her head. "I was still at school then, but it was publicized enough that they killed her and why."

Her fingers played with the phoenix symbol on the front of her robes. She had to wear it at all times: it identified her as one that had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, and as an Undesirable, much like Potter had once been.

"Do you know what they do to them…the Muggleborns?"

He nodded, throat dry. The Ministry had forbidden him and the others who knew from telling what had happened to the Muggleborns. But then, the Ministry had also forbidden him from talking to Undesirables, and what was he doing now?

"We wouldn't have a large enough population without them…" he said.

"Yes?" she prompted.

"They put them in camps, and when it comes to their attention that one of the women is having a child, they contact a young pureblooded couple. She fakes the pregnancy and takes the child as her own. A few Glamours, and no one is the wiser."

She stared at him, mouth open.

"But how will the Muggleborn population increase?"

"They won't. Eventually, they'll die out."

She sighed.

"Clever enough, I suppose, but—"

"Excuse me?"

The door opened and Tom walked in, back hunched. Draco briefly wondered if his back had always been this bent over, or if the stress of the new laws and changes in society had made him more twisted.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"No thank you, Tom," she said, walking towards the door. "I've got to go. Goodbye, Draco."

And to his complete and utter amazement, she left without looking back. He nearly laughed. No, he'd been wrong. Astoria Greengrass had not changed a bit.

~o0o~

The strange meeting with the youngest Malfoy played in Astoria's head for the remainder of the week. She found it difficult to focus on her work, and the usual detail she pounded into her transcripts was lost. She'd only placed it there in the first place to forget the situation. With something else to occupy her subconscious her work slipped.

It was no surprise to her, then, when she received a purple memo in her tiny little cubicle.

_Dear Miss Greengrass,_

_You have a Career Counseling Meeting at 1 P.M. sharp. _

_Yours Most Sincerely,_

_Aphrodite Ward_

Astoria looked at her watch and cursed. It was 12:55. The memos always got lost! Clumsily dumping her finished transcript in her out box, Astoria hurried out of the cubicle, nearly sending it tumbling to the floor.

She arrived, panting, at Ward's office door at 1:01.

"Sorry," she said, opening the door without any semblance of a greeting.

"Not at all, Miss Greengrass, not at all!" the woman said cheerfully, the sweetness all but oozing off her words.

Astoria was suddenly reminded of another career meeting from another life.

"_Miss Greengrass! Good to see you're on time. Blaise did well, did he? Good, good."_

Slughorn was still working at Hogwarts, as far as she knew. She hadn't spent much time dwelling on other people since she'd graduated.

"Miss Greengrass? Miss Greengrass?"

"I'm sorry."

"As I was saying, we here at the Career Placement Department have noticed a lack of effort in your work as of late. Is something wrong?"

"No. Not at all."

The witch raised her perfectly penciled eyebrows in a patronizing look.

"It says in your file that you're unmarried. Is there a reason for this?"

Well, if she was going to be this ridiculous, Astoria was going to match her.

"I've never worn a white dress and walked down an aisle?" she asked sarcastically.

"Well," Ward said, pursing her lips. "I suppose that's a valid reason, isn't it?"

She tittered about it for a few moments, and Astoria got to her feet.

"Was there another reason to call me in besides question me about my marital status?"

Ward shook her head.

"All right, I'll be going, then."

She walked out the door, and straight into someone.

"Sorry," she said.

"Astoria!"

And before she could react, he kissed her. She froze in surprise, and he released her before she could do anything.

"Miss Greengrass?" Ward said. "You just had to mention you were seeing someone—we could have been done much sooner."

"Oh…no…"

Draco trod lightly on her foot and she gasped, more in surprise than pain.

"I mean….I didn't think about it."

The two walked in the same direction. That is, Astoria began to head back to her department, and Draco followed her, hard on her heels.

"What was that about?" she snapped.

"Look, Astoria. You might not trust me, but believe me when I say that the wife of one of the Dark Lord's own might have a better chance of survival then the lost little Dumbledore's Army fighter with the phoenix on her chest."

She looked up at him.

"Why?"

It was a good question. The emotions battled for attention on his face, switching so fast it was impossible to distinguish which was most prominent.

"An old friend of mine once told me that I always had a choice, but I think she's forgotten that by now."

It brought a small smile to her lips. Some things never changed.

**And here we go. The theme song for this entire story is Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men. I don't know why, but I get inspiration every time I hear it, so you might as well know. :P**

**The memory in italics was from Many Things, so if you haven't read that, then now you know!**

**The same goes for the bit about always having a choice. It's what Astoria told Draco back in HBP when he told her he had to kill Dumbledore.**


	3. Appearances

**The Games We Play**

**Appearances **

"You've taken an interest in the Greengrass girl."

It wasn't a question, and Draco knew it. He'd known that something was amiss when the Dark Lord summoned him. He'd left the field for a position in the Department of Magical Cooperation, and since he'd risen to Head six months ago, he hadn't felt his Mark burn.

"Yes, my lord," he said, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground.

Every muscle in his body was locked with tension so thick in the air that, if he'd had a nose, the Dark Lord could have smelled. As it always did in time of danger, Draco's gallows humor almost made him laugh out loud.

"She is an Undesirable."

"Yes, my lord."

"Why?"

He didn't have to specify. Draco chewed on the inside of his lip, and stared at the dark hardwood. There were plenty of things he could tell the Dark Lord—none that he would be able to understand.

"She has pure blood," Draco answered in a low voice.

He felt the Dark Lord's presence in his mind and he quickly thought of his parents, their pride when he was Sorted into Slytherin, his father's rare smile at the sight of his son playing Seeker. The Dark Lord recoiled, though he didn't show it outwardly.

"So I see. You may go."

Draco had to brace his hands against the floor to get up. His legs were shaking too much with the effort of fighting him out of his mind. The Dark Lord seemed to find this amusing. He didn't laugh, of course, but his demeanor changed. Draco stumbled out of the room, his legs bricks.

~o0o~

"Back to him?" asked Cynthia, tapping her wand on the pamphlet zooming past her to make it colored.

Astoria had taken her lunch break to talk with her old friend. Both women were used to this; they were only thing each other had left.

"He…we ran into each other at Diagon Ally."

"And?" Cynthia prompted.

"And I realized that I'd rather be stuck with someone who I know cares about me then with some pig-headed idiot with pure blood where his brain should be!"

Cynthia looked sharply from her work, her eyes narrowed on Astoria's face.

"Be careful."

Shrewd as always, she'd somehow realized exactly what this meeting in Diagon Ally had entailed.

~o0o~

"Miss Greengrass, huh?"

Draco looked over at Yaxley, with whom he was currently sharing a lift with.

"How did—"

"It's notable," Yaxley said with a shrug. "Two _old _pureblood families, not those 'new' purebloods."

Draco nodded, staring straight ahead.

"Still, if she looks anything like her mother, it doesn't matter what her blood status is."

Draco exited at the next stop and walked the remaining two flights. He couldn't take that conversation any longer.

~o0o~

_Astoria,_

_We're going to a party tonight. Ministry business._

She would have recognized the handwriting anywhere, but she didn't have a clue why she was expected to attend. Knowing Draco, though, and knowing the new Ministry, it would be a suit and tie affair.

She sighed. It seemed trivial, but she wasn't sure that the dress she'd worn to Hans and Eleanor's wedding would fit anymore. Everything now was a game of appearances—physical, mental and emotional. If she didn't' look the part of a perfect little future wife, she couldn't play it. There was only one thing for it.

Astoria left her apartment and began walking towards Diagon Alley. It took her a while, but she found she didn't mind. Despite the brisk September wind, it was warm. Astoria made quick time and entered the door to her destination ten minutes later.

"Astoria?"

Millicent Bulstrode emerged from the back room, alerted by the tinkling of the bell on the door.

"Hello, Millie."

She smiled broadly and approached Astoria, eyes critically flicking over the other woman.

"You've always looked pretty in green," she commented quietly. "But…not tonight."

She vanished into the back room again, and Astoria slid her fingers over the soft cloth dressing the mannequin next to her. It was strange that even after the war that had claimed hundreds, the victory of the wrong side and the trials that had taken so many more that keeping up silly little pretenses was so important. Millie came out of the back room with a dress. Astoria gaped at her—it was so different than what she would have picked herself. She wanted nothing more than to fade into the background, and this dress would certainly would not help her with that.

"I can't—"

"You'll look great," Millie assured her, thrusting it into her arms.

Astoria closed the dressing room door and changed. To her surprise, it fit perfectly. Probably a charm, if old Mrs. Bulstrode ahd kept her sizes from before. She unlocked the door and stepped into the store. Millie clapped her hands together like an excited schoolgirl.

"You look lovely, Astoria."

"Thanks, Millie," she said, glancing appraisingly in the mirror.

Gold was too standout-ish, but why not live life on the edge?

She purchased the dress and returned home to wait. Draco arrived at six o'clock.

"You look nice," he offered.

They set out for the nearest Apparition point at a brisk walk.

"It's at the Parkinsons' house. Pansy's hosting, of course."

Astoria made a small noise of distaste.

"Oh, don't worry about her and I," he said with a wink in her direction.

Astoria rolled her eyes, but she realized just how much she had missed their banter.

"I have to do some business, though, with a couple of foreigners. There's talk of us speaking with the French over placing of Anti-Apparition wards, now that they've surrendered. You'll be all right on your own?"

"Draco, I _have _survived twenty years on my own, you know."

Luckily for him, he didn't have to find a reply because they had arrived.

"Side-along?" he asked, holding out his arm.

Astoria took it and they vanished with a crack. They arrived outside the Parkinson house, where an Apparition point had been built just for the occasion. _Figures _she thought snidely.

They entered the house only to be greeted by an empty foyer. Astoria glanced around. Pansy seemed the type to flaunt the honor of hosting such a grand event.

Draco led the way into the drawing room, where a few people already sat. Draco slipped into French and talked to a man standing by the punchbowl.

"Is that Astoria Greengrass I see?"

"Ben!"

She wanted to hug him. It had been a long time since she'd seen him, but something told her that it would be a very bad idea.

"I don't think you've met my wife, Joy."

Joy was tiny, shorter than Astoria, which came as a shock. She very rarely met someone shorter than herself.

"Nice to meet you. Were you at Hogwarts with us?"

She smiled. "Hufflepuff, a year behind you."

"Oh, that explains it."

Hufflepuffs and Slytherins didn't interact that often, for obvious reasons. Hufflepuffs valued loyalty and fair play above all else, and Slytherins didn't care who they stepped on as they struggled to the top.

A man struck up conversation with Ben and Joy turned her attention to him instead.

"Firewhiskey, Miss?" squeaked a little house-elf, offering her a tray.

"Thank you," Astoria said, taking one.

The elf's eyes bugged at her thanks and he scurried away, presumably to tell his friends about the encounter.

She took a sip and looked around. There were a large amount of people she recognized, but some she did not.

"Astoria," purred a voice behind her. "Darling, it's been too long."

She had never been more shocked to see Pansy Parkinson in her life. For one thing, she wouldn't have expected such a warm welcome. For another, she wasn't sure that Pansy had ever said anything nice to, or about her. To round it all off, she would have never expected to find Pansy this tispy.

"Yes, it has," she said warmly, hoping the smile didn't look too fake.

"You're here with Draco, yes? Oh, where is he? I haven't talked to him in forever."

Something flashed in her eyes, but Astoria wisely chose to ignore it.

"What brings you the honor of hosting?" she asked, carefully changing the subject.

"Oh, those who uphold their pure blood are always given things like this," she said, her eyes flicking disdainfully to Astoria's phoenix pin.

She proceeded to list every one of her family members, their ages (some as old as ninety, some as young as two), their House (all Slytherin but for one unfortunate Hufflepuff great aunt that they didn't speak much about anymore) and their blood status (of course all pure). Astoria nodded and smiled, pretending to be interested.

"Ready to go?"

Astoria tried very hard not to breathe a sigh of relief at the sound of Draco's voice.

"Sure. Goodbye, Pansy."

"Oh, yes, yes. Darling, we must continue this conversation another time. Owl me, and we can set up a tea."

Astoria couldn't help but wonder if Pansy had bored her on purpose. They left the scene as quickly as they could.

"That was fast," Astoria commented as they headed for the Apparition point.

"It's easy enough if they're hung over."

She blinked at him, not comprehending.

"Blaise," he said with another trademark smirk, "is an excellent business partner."

She took his arm when he offered it and they vanished with a crack


End file.
